A Predicament No Longer
by SherlockingTheHobbitsToAsgard
Summary: Alice had happily settled into her new life at 221b and thought everything was perfect. But when a dark figure from her past reappears, her attention is torn from Sherlock and John, leading to fatal consequences. Alice must keep her head as the world she knew starts to collapse around her, but can she save the ones she loves most? Or will Sherlock have to take the fall?


**Ah! I'm sorry! I was so excited to get this story started that I forgot the most important thing ever! The whole reason why I've even written a sequel! And that is because of one person and her name is Georgie. She has been nothing but incredible to me, helpful and inspiring and generally fantastic! So, George, remember last week when we were in Casa Nova and everyone was getting a chapter dedicated to them and you didn't get one and I said it was a surprise? Well, surprise! Happy Birthday! You get a whole story. Yep, well done you. You mean an awful lot to me and I love you so thank you for being wondrous and enchanting.**

**There! Done! Now, on with the show! **

**I don't own Sherlock but, by jingo, I wish I did. Oh, the things I would do...**

* * *

All was quiet in 221b. Outside the flat, the sound of cars and buses roaring by could be heard but inside, it was quiet. _Too quiet_. John Watson sat up in bed, chewing on his lip thoughtfully, a frown creasing his forehead. What was happening? It was a week day, about 11 O' clock and he was still in bed, undisturbed. That was weird in itself but he didn't have to be at work until two to deal with snotty noses and sprained wrists, a stark contrast to the haunting images he was stuck with after his time in Afghanistan. He should be enjoying his lie in... But why was it quiet? When one lived with Sherlock Holmes, things were never calm, never simple, never boring. He was about to give up on being paranoid and settle back down under the covers when he heard it, Alice's squeal of terror and excitement,

"Duck and cover!" Then an explosion that sounded like it came from the kitchen. John swore loudly and threw back the covers, pulling on his dressing gown as he stumbled out of his bedroom door to the kitchen.

"What the Hell is going on in here!" He cried as he rounded the corner. He froze when he saw the frankly apocalyptic mess in the kitchen. Bright yellow slime dripped off of every surface, congealing on the table, running across the floor. John's eyes bulged as he took in the mayhem, completely lost for words. He turned from the mess to the living room where he saw Alice poking her head up over the top of the sofa. She grinned nervously at him,

"Oop! Sorry!" She apologised as she stood and hurried to his side, taking in the disarray with not so much regret but interest in her wide eyes, her smile bright. She turned and he saw that her back was completely covered in the slime, it dripped from her hair onto the carpet and her shirt was splattered with the stuff. He watched her take a picture of the mess on her phone before curiosity and anger got the best of him.

"Alice," He said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. "What are you-" But Alice raised an eyebrow at him and scooped a handful of the stuff off of the kitchen counter.

"This stuff is bright yellow, John; do you really want to know?" She asked sceptically before flicking the goo back onto the kitchen floor carelessly. She stuck her tongue out disgustedly and made an 'eurgh' noise whilst John thought carefully about his next question.

"What's it made of?" She sniffed, rubbing her nose on her sleeve nonchalantly.

"Do you really want to know?" She repeated, not giving anything away. John's frown deepened,

"And how did Sherlock convince you to help him?" He saw her about to reply and raised a hand to stop her. "It's alright, I've got it, 'do I really want to know?'" He answered for her. Alice smiled at her brother as Sherlock came backing out of the kitchen, a fire extinguisher in his hands. He was shooting bursts at seemingly random spots in the kitchen, drowning some of the frankly alarming shade of yellow in white foam.

"I think I've got all of it." He declared, turning to the pair and brandishing his fire extinguisher proudly. Alice grinned,

"Good, do you know what the time is?" She asked them. John snorted and made his way into the living room. He was never going to get back to sleep now so he thought he might as well get some chores done before he had to go to work.

"Like I could see a clock in this bloody mess." He chided, gesturing to the chaotic state of their flat. Sherlock ignored him and pulled back his suit sleeve, looking at his watch.

"It's quarter to eleven." He informed her and Alice's eyes widened.

"Shit!" She cried as she stumbled out of the living room and into her and Sherlock's bedroom. After their relationship was officially established, Alice had moved out of John's room so he no longer had to sleep on the sofa and into Sherlock's, much to John's chagrin. It's not that he hated the idea of Sherlock and his sister, he just didn't like the fact that he didn't know what they were doing behind closed bedroom doors. Or rather, he did know but didn't want to know. It's a complicated emotion. John carefully lowered himself into his armchair and let out a grunt as his body relaxed.

"Haven't you got a job interview at twelve thirty?" He called to Alice who was dashing about the flat, gathering clean clothes and a towel breathlessly.

"Yes, hence the exclamation of profanity." She replied sardonically as she tugged at her now bright yellow hair. "I've got to have a shower, this stuff is everywhere." She muttered as she sped into the bathroom.

* * *

"You're okay?"

"Yes."

"Got everything?"

"Yes."

"No worries."

"John-"

"Want me to go over anything?"

"John-"

"You know where you're going?"

"John-"

"Got your Oyster card?"

"John!" Alice cried exasperatedly. John stopped his endless barrage of questions with an apologetic smile. Alice sighed and rested her hands on his shoulders to comfort him. "I'm fine." She assured him softly. John smiled properly and nodded his head.

"I know." He replied and Alice beamed back at her brother. She gave him a quick hug before grabbing her things and slipping into a pair of heels. "Good luck." John called as she walked towards the door and Sherlock.

"See you later." She replied as she reached up and gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the lips. "Love you." He smiled down at her and kissed her again softly.

"You too." He said and Alice left the room. They heard the door slam and John let out a tense sigh.

"She'll be fine." He told himself aloud, although he didn't sound very convinced. Sherlock watched his friend swing his arms nervously and rolled his eyes as he went to put his fire extinguisher away.

"John, it's just a job interview." He told his friend wearily. John nodded absently, obviously not comforted by Sherlock's words.

"Yeah, it's just Alice has never been at her best under pressure." He admitted, suddenly having flash backs of having to explain to Harriet's now ex-girlfriend that yes, Alice was making a joke, yes, she did know it wasn't fancy dress and no, you do not look like a prostitute. Sherlock of course didn't know about Alice's penchant for verbal diarrhoea and continued in blissful ignorance.

"How bad could it be?" He muttered. He looked up and saw John giving him a pointed look. Apparently very bad. "I'll go buy her chocolate for when she gets home." He added quickly. John snorted derisively,

"That would be wise." He said, chuckling as he went into his room. A few minutes later he was shrugging on his jacket, gathering his keys and his phone and stuffing them into his pockets.

"I'm off to Sainsbury's, need anything?" He looked back at the kitchen. "A mop perhaps?" He added hopefully. But Sherlock didn't express any interest in cleaning up his and Alice's mess.

"No, thank you." He replied in a bored voice as he flicked through the pages of a worn, old book. John sighed quietly and berated himself for even beginning to think that Sherlock would bother tidying.

"Shouldn't be long." He called before he closed the door. Sherlock's gaze momentarily drifted to the TV where a prim woman was staring sternly out at him from behind a desk.

_'This is BBC news at twelve, I'm Jessica Dunthorn. Two men have been killed in a car pileup in central London today when-'_ Sherlock groaned and turned back to his book.

"Ugh, boring." He muttered.

* * *

"That's £13.50." The checkout girl said cheerily, and John thought it was odd that someone should seem so happy about taking his money.

"Right." He said as he pulled out his wallet. He handed over the money and the girl smiled again.

"Have a nice day." She ordered and John nodded as he picked up his bag.

"Yeah, you too." He replied absently, though obviously neither of them really cared. Across the road, an electrics shop had TVs blaring in the window. The news was open on each screen and a posh voice called out to the bustling street.

_'Our war correspondent Lisa Parliament is reporting from the scene.'_

* * *

_'Investigations are underway at the Baskerville army base in Devon after it was discovered that one of its scientists was leading inhumane experiments...'_

Alice smiled over the top of her newspaper at the telly in the corner of the room. She was sat in a waiting room at the 'Billington and Jones Publishing' office, awaiting her job interview. Publishing had never really been something she'd been interested in but anything to do with books had her name stamped all over it. She was perfectly at ease, one leg serenely folded over the other, a shiny new briefcase (empty) by her feet and a self-assured smile on her face. She beamed proudly up at the television by the ceiling. She loved hearing about John and Sherlock's cases on the news. They made her feel part of the big mystery surrounding 'The Man Beneath the Hat.' She sighed contentedly and turned back to her newspaper as the news woman spoke on.

* * *

Sherlock fiddled with the cover of his book in a bored way for a while before he threw it across the room. He groaned and heaved himself up off the sofa and into the kitchen to forage for food. In the background, the news still played, only barely capturing his attention.

_'And finally, our top story today.'_

* * *

_'A woman haS been reported kidnapped after her fiancé has been searching for her for over a year.'_

John froze as he walked past the electrics shop. He turned around and watched the screens behind the glass with a frown on his face.

* * *

Alice cleared her throat and placed her finished newspaper down on the small table beside her chair. The waiting room really lived up to its name. She resisted drumming her fingernails on her arm rests out of courtesy for the other men and women in suits that were also waiting. She started to get fidgety, the way she always got when she was bored, when something across the street caught her eye. Through the glass front of the building she was in, she could easily see the bus stop on the other side of the road. Her thoughtful expression slowly slipped from her face as she squinted at the bus stop advert. No. No, it couldn't be. She stood from her chair and walked out of the waiting room, her heels clacking on the tile floor. All eyes were on her curiously as she stepped up to the glass. She stared hard at the bus stop and tilted her head to one side like a confused puppy.

"What the..?"

* * *

Sherlock looked up at the TV then down to his tea then quickly back up again in an almost neck-breaking double take. He dropped his spoon with a clatter and stumbled into the living room, dropping heavily to his knees in front of the television_._

_ 'Alice Watson, pictured here, was allegedly taken from her home in Surrey in June last year whilst her fiancé, Calum Richards, was hosting a business meeting upstairs.'_

* * *

John's jaw slowly dropped as his worst nightmare was unfurled before his eyes. The din of the chaotic London traffic behind him fell on deaf ears. He felt like he was drowning, the incessant chill of dread creeping through his bones.

_'Scotland Yard have started their investigations and inquiries have been made about the whereabouts of Alice Watson.'_

* * *

Alice's eyes were the size of saucers as she turned, open-mouthed away from the missing persons poster on the bus stop. She stalked away from the picture of her own face, details and 'last known whereabouts' and marched into the waiting room where the news was still playing.

* * *

Sherlock felt an alien feeling of dread creep up his spine as he studied the screen, the faint sound of police sirens heading his way in the distance.

_'Here we have an official plea from Calum Richards.'_

* * *

Alice's felt her knees grow weak as she watched her ex-fiancé speak into a microphone, surrounded by police officers, camera flashes lighting up his tear-stained face.

_'I will not rest until my love is found. Please, if you've seen her or know of her whereabouts, come forward. I beg of you, please help me find Alice.'_

"Oh, God." She whispered.


End file.
